Page 106 of Return To You

thirty-two

Ethan

It’s the middle of the night, Dad has gone to bed, and I can’t sleep.

The alcohol has long worn off, so I leave the farm and ride to Grace’s. Once on her road, I kill my engine and push the bike up her driveway.

Then I let myself in, leave my shoes at the entrance, tread to the bedroom, strip my clothes off, and slide in next to Grace,

“You came back,” she says in her half-asleep voice.

I scoop her in my arms. “Couldn’t sleep without you.”

She does a little happy sound, her body wiggling against mine. “You smell like an old man.”

A silent laugh takes hold of me. “My dad smoked a cigar, and I had whiskey.”

She grunts. “And you drove your bike? At night?”

I grunt back. “S’okay. Sleep now.”

She turns in my arms so that I spoon her, and nests her ass against my dick. “How’d you get in?” she murmurs.

“Your fucking key was back under the rock,” I grunt.

“Mm. Aren’t you happy it was?” And on these words, I can tell from the weight of her body and the rhythm of her breathing, that she’s asleep in under a minute.

Damian wakes us up before dawn when he jumps on the bed, walking on our faces, tripping on one of my socks he’s holding in his jaw.

Grace sits up, squints her puffy eyes, licks her morning swollen lips, and shakes her bedhead, the trifecta an absolute turn-on. My morning wood becomes rock hard just looking at her wake up.

I just want to fuck her.

“Eww, Damian, what’s that smell?” she whines.

I clasp the sock Damian is proudly dragging on her face, pull it to my side of the bed, but the cat stays attached to it and lets out a muffled yowl as he lands on the floor.

“The fuck?” Grace whispers, plopping herself on her elbows.

I should have closed the door. Note to self: Damian needs to be contained outside the bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed, my back to Grace so she doesn’t see my hard-on. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Before I can stand, her arm snakes around my waist and pulls me to her. Then her hand trails down. “Coffee will wait,” she draws out. “Get Damian out of here, and come say a proper good morning.”

Yes, ma’am.

I make sweet love to Grace. Her movements are slow and loving and deep. This is almost goodbye, and even though I don’t want it to be, this will be our life now. Better get used to it.

There will be time for wild sex, for fucking, later. This morning is not one of those.

This morning is for our bodies to say I love you in their own way. For remembering every square inch of her body. For imprinting myself with her smell, her taste, her sounds.

When she comes undone, she clasps me with more fierceness than normally, with something harsh that might look like sadness or resignment if I didn’t know better.

“I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

“I know.”

But after that, I will be gone long.

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